


Dearly despised

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin's terrible life decisions, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Possessive Anakin Skywalker, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Suitless Darth Vader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Where a Jedi was spotted, Darth Vader was sure to follow, leaving behind a trail of corpses; Jedi or otherwise. To finish what he started when he knelt down and swore allegiance to a new Emperor. To finally bring peace to a galaxy that had been ripped apart from war.Obi-Wan knew better. This was a more personal matter: Vader wanted revenge. Vader wantedhim.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader
Comments: 123
Kudos: 968
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

A Jedi was not exempt from making mistakes; not even a Master of the bygone High Council was above the harsh reality of failure. Obi-Wan could attest to that. He had made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime.

Unable to save his master, Qui-Gon.

Unable to sense the growing darkness in his Padawan before it consumed him completely.

Unable to kill Anakin when seizing the chance and saving the galaxy from a disastrous fate.

Unable to fathom that Anakin would ever travel back to Tatooine—this latest mistake might have cost Obi-Wan the most.

Anakin had no love for his homeland Tatooine; offering nothing other than mournful memories of child slavery and the grave of his mother. No, Obi-Wan had been confident that Vader would never step foot on Tatooine ever again, a planet that was a harsh reminder of another more pitiful life before the Sith Lord came to power.

Perhaps he never would have, had Obi-Wan not slipped up.

Tatooine was a refuge for criminals and smugglers. Wrongful conduct was not a rare sight. Obi-Wan had been forced to stay his hand more times that he could count during his stay. He was no longer a paragon of justice, fighting for the Republic, but a lone unassuming traveller named Ben who kept to his house on the outskirts.

Until he had stopped a Tusken Raider from murdering an innocent. Just a quick Force push when he realised he would not reach them in time. Barely a sprinkle of power exerted and then Obi-Wan had left the scene, melting back into the cover of curious bystanders, hood raised the whole time. It was enough for the locals to notice and speculate.

A foolish action. Foolish, just like knocking Anakin unconscious and refusing to deal the killing blow as Mustafar's lava had raged around them had been.

It would not take long for news to spread. Where a Jedi was spotted, Darth Vader was sure to follow, leaving behind a trail of corpses; Jedi or otherwise. To finish what he started when he knelt down and swore allegiance to the new Emperor. To finally bring peace to a galaxy that had been ripped apart from war.

Obi-Wan knew better. This was a more personal matter: Vader wanted revenge. Vader wanted _him_.

Plans of a hasty escape had entered Obi-Wan's mind. It would be easily within Obi-Wan's capabilities. Time would be on his side, being in the Outer Rim region, and it would take at least a day for any substantial Imperial force capable of taking on a Jedi to relocate out here. A simple mind-trick here and there to coerce a ship on one of the planet's space ports and he would vanish into the vast open space before word even reached the Empire.

Then Vader and his troops would arrive and slaughter the planet's residents with no remorse, enraged his old Master had escaped his grasp again. Countless death far too close to Luke's location, still a wide-eyed child unaware of the injustice the universe could offer.

There was only one outcome to this sordid cat and mouse game they played that wouldn't leave Obi-Wan drenched in guilt.

Thus he waited.

Obi-Wan sat cross legged, tending to the fireplace before him, nothing but mountains of sand as far as the eye could see in his remote location among the Jundland Wastes. Only one person would be capable of finding him out here, led by his Force being a glowing beacon, lighting up freely for the first time in years.

To pass the time Obi-Wan watches the sky with apprehension, at the few ships that dare travel to to such a lawless outskirts planet, wondering if one he saw would belong to _him_. Obi-Wan wraps his cloak tighter around him as a strong breeze kicks up. The winds had become frigid in the absence of Tatooine's suns.

Some time later, as the fire threatens to dwindle, he hears the soft crunch of approaching footsteps.

Obi-Wan reaches out with the Force, scouting the area quickly. No other lifeforms for miles. Anakin had come alone. How confident his old apprentice was, always rushing head first into battle with no thought of consequences. Some things never changed.

Keeping his gaze on the fire, Obi-Wan speaks first, a sarcastic lilt in his delivery.

“You seem to be suffering from a shortage of back up. Has the Empire run out of clones already. or should I expect a sniper to blast me when I least expect it? Cowardly yet efficient.”

“Says the coward who abandoned me, ran from me and hid from me all this time,” a cold voice replies, comparable to hardened steel.

Gathering his courage, Obi-Wan turns to look at what remains of Anakin Skywalker for the first time in four years.

The stactic HoloNet's imagery Obi-Wan had sometimes caught glimpses of in the local cantina's did not do the figure justice.

Anakin had always favoured darker robes and now being the front-line for the Empire he had indulged even more in the shades of night. The only colour left was in his hair (still a mass of wild curls) and eyes (no longer blue, a serene sky melted away by a scorching sun). His face still held echoes of the boyish features Obi-Wan saw in his dreams, but they had been subdued with sharpened edges to match the darker, hateful emotion harboured in those eyes.

“Besides, I have no need of help to deal with you,” Anakin brags. “Not when I've become more powerful than any Jedi could hope to be.”

“Bold words considering you did not come out the victor in our last encounter,” Obi-Wan reminds him.

“Yet here I stand unscathed,” Anakin says, a touch of confusion parting his arrogant exterior, before it is swallowed again as he takes in Obi-Wan’s humble campsite. “Pathetic, Obi-Wan. I thought this was beneath you.”

Hidden in his sleeves, Obi-Wan’s hands clench. “I once thought a lot of actions were beneath you, too.”

Anakin’s lips twitch in agitation before they flatten out. He tilts his head back, staring further down at Obi-Wan in warning. “You thought wrong.”

An understatement of a life-time.

Seeing no point in delaying the inevitable, Obi-Wan stands, unclipping his lightsaber and resting it in the palm of his hand. A well-known weight, comforting despite the grim promise of battle. It felt like centuries since he had last used it

Anakin's eyes track his movement. “You're not going to make this difficult for me are you, my old Master?”

Anakin did not seem perturbed by the idea of Obi-Wan's resistance, idle scowl and overconfident stance in his features as he mirrors Obi-Wan's circling movement to find an advantage. Perhaps hunting down escapee Jedi Knights was a common enough pass time for the Sith Lord to grow bored of these days.

_And what a chilling thought that is_ , Obi-wan thinks.

“I rather thought out of the two of us that was always _your_ job, Anakin,” Obi-Wan remarks, Anakin's posture stiffening at the sound of his given name. He wonders how long it has been since someone last dared to call him that. “Forgive me if I don't refer to you as...Darth Vader, was it?”

Obi-Wan had of course heard of the title, far too often for his liking. Another planet crumbling under the Empire's iron first, named Darth Vader, a voice belonging to a gossiping trader—as Obi-Wan blended in with Anchorhead's market crowd's—had reached his ears. Another sad attempt at rebellion snuffed out, handled by the dark warrior they called Lord Vader, another whispered in awe.

Yes, even after acquiring a life of a hermit preferring the company of old ghosts, Obi-Wan had heard of Darth Vader. It was hard to reconcile the man he grew up with to the ghoulish moniker. Even the tornado of hatred, rage and burning desperation Obi-Wan had faced in Anakin on that fateful day on Mustafar did not compare.

Now, with cold yet smouldering gold irises calculating his every move and boring down on him, Obi-Wan could see the foretold Darth Vader the Empire had given birth to.

“Hiding behind your jests won't save you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin hisses at him. “You forget I know you better than anyone. I see through your attempts at indifference.”

“As you saw through the lies of the Jedi, I'm sure,” Obi-Wan mocks.

Anakin begins to pace, forgetting their circular dance for a more frantic motion, like a ferocious predator in their cage impatiently waiting for the opportunity to hunt. “None of you listened! None of you saw what I did. The Jedi were corrupt, you were just too blinded to see it. I saved us all!”

“Saved us?” Obi-Wan spreads his arms in disbelief. “And yet Padmé is dead!”

The Force roars between them, enough to make their cloaks quiver as if in trepidation. If Obi-Wan had been a lesser Jedi he would have been knocked off his feet, pinned down from the heavy weight of Anakin's chaotic emotions.

Anakin clenches his hands that are shaking with thinly contained rage. He breathes out deeply, closing his eyes. The Force swirls chaotically between them before subsiding into a muted standstill.

“You're trying to upset me. Unbalance me...provoke me,” Anakin mutters, as if in a trance. “Not this time.” The yellow rimmed gaze finds his again, alight with newfound purpose. “Now, Master, you listen to _me_.”

The Sith takes a menacing step forward.

Obi-Wan ignites his lightsaber in response, the familiar blue hum soothing his nerves slightly in the wave of pure determination now rolling off Anakin. How ironic that all Obi-Wan had ever tried to teach Anakin was to stay in control of his emotions and now it might be the very reason for his downfall.

Anakin slows his approach, eyeing the lightsaber with contempt, but doesn't stop in his pursuit and Obi-Wan finds himself backing up in response. Even with Anakin's own lightsaber still remaining sheathed safely at his hip, Anakin Skywalker was a dangerous man and yet...Obi-Wan does not know if he'll have it in him to make the first strike on his former Padawan.

_I can't kill him_ , he had said to Master Yoda. He still couldn't. A shameful weakness this attachment was, obstructing him from doing his duty as a Jedi time and time again.

Another step backwards mirroring one forwards. A mockery of a chase. Only sand stretched out for miles beyond them on this desolate planet. They could partake in this sombre routine for days if need be, all without endangering any nearby settlements. Only the impartial moons would bare witness to what would come to pass. It was a small, optimistic thought in comparison to the hopelessness of Obi-Wan's current situation.

“Tell me, is the dark side everything you hoped it to be?” Obi-Wan asks, stalling for time to come up with some haphazard plan.

Still, his foolish heart jumps with curiosity at his old Padawan's well-being; even after every agonising sin the boy committed.

_Was it worth it, Anakin?_

Anakin comes to an abrupt stop, a look of shock passing his features. Obi-Wan panics. _Did he_? No, Anakin can't have heard that. Their Force bond was in ripped shreds, closed off for years. Hidden safely away from Anakin's frantic searching all this time. Obi-wan had made sure of that, and even with their sudden proximity the wounded bond should lie dormant.

Obi-Wan strengthens his shields just in case.

Turmoil seeps into Anakin's gaze briefly, before he shakes his head in anger, long blonde curls obstructing Obi-Wan's view of him. The world is near silent as the dark clad inferno breathes heavily, collecting his thoughts.

“It will be,” Anakin growls vehemently to the ground, before locking dark eyes on him again, “once I have you.”

Obi-Wan doesn't have time to question the odd phrasing before Anakin was upon him, glowing red lightsaber tearing into the darkness of the night. Obi-Wan guards against Anakin's strikes weighed with enough strength to dig Obi-Wan's heels even deeper into the sand.

They settle into a rhythm, Anakin attacking and Obi-Wan defending, spinning to attack when Anakin leaves himself vulnerable. Those moments are few. Anakin had learnt since their last encounter it seemed. Or maybe, in his exile, Obi-Wan was not the fighter he once was.

_Or maybe,_ a traitorous voice speaks up, sounding suspiciously like Master Windu, _the dark side fits Skywalker more than the light ever did._

The pace of Anakin’s attacks becomes faster when the Sith grows agitated at not finding a flaw in Obi-Wan’s defence. Their lightsabers crash together, a raging storm of blue and red intertwined. They stay locked together, in a duel of strength and willpower.

“You did well to hide from me all this time, Obi-Wan,” Anakin praises in the lull, the lightning quiver of their lightsabers singing between them. “The others didn't manage as well. Each Jedi I hunted down that wasn't you I made suffer for it.”

Obi-Wan grit his teeth, expelling his anger and sorrow to the Force. He would not give this monster the satisfaction of seeing his pain.

“I expect your new Master was pleased with your conquests,” Obi-Wan remarks, disgusted.

“I didn't do it for him,” Anakin replies with scorn. A demoniacal glow swirls in those molten orbs as he leans closer, as close as one could be to a lightsaber. “I did it for you.”

The twisted admission shocks Obi-Wan enough for his guard to drop, and like a viper, Anakin strikes through his defences. The crimson lightsaber catches Obi-Wan's chest as he barely dodges the attack. The searing hot pain the trail Anakin's lightsaber leaves is enough to make his vision blur and his knees buckle.

He catches himself in time but Anakin is merciless and continues the assault immediately. Obi-Wan raises his saber above him to block the blows, each more frenzied than the last. It’s the fourth that sends him to the ground, when the pain from his burnt chest overwhelms him, the strain in his arms from holding back such a wild, monstrous force becoming too much.

Anakin stands above him victorious. He swirls his lightsaber one more time, an unconscious habit, before turning it off. Moments pass as they both catch their breath.

“Don't you see?” A triumphant grin parts away Anakin's battle hardened visage. “I'm all you have left now, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan doesn't respond, too busy holding back gasps of pain and he feels more than sees Anakin tear his lightsaber from his hand and throw it in a random, careless direction. Anakin's boots then enter his vision.

“Are you afraid of me?” Anakin questions nonchalantly, as if he couldn't care which way.

“Jedi do not fear death,” he instead answers. _Death, yet the force._

A black gloved hand slides into his hair, deceivingly gentle, before a rough pull commands Obi-Wan to look at Anakin. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan does.

A cruel smile plays on Anakin's lips. “I know for a fact they did; every last one of them. Pretenders, until the very end.”

_Is this the last image I am to see?_ Obi-Wan asks the universe, the Force, anything that would hear his pitiful lamentations. _My greatest success and failure viciously laughing down at me. It's oddly fitting, if nothing else._

Yet Anakin does not strike him down. Anakin does not even activate his blood coloured lightsaber again.

Anakin does something far worse; he opens up their Force connection with the desperation of a drowning man gasping for air, sweeping away all of Obi-Wan's well fortified defences in one wave.

Obi-Wan tries to tear his head away in his panic, hoping physical distance will stop the connection but Anakin maintains a tight grip in his hair. The sharp pain in his scalp barely registers among the chaotic intensity that is Anakin filling his mind.

It's only natural for the Force to reconnect them both with ease, years of comradeship and familiarity between them. The empty wound that had always been present was healing with efficiency, Anakin's presence surrounding all and soothing the aches away. Even poisoned and dripping in darkness, Anakin's force presence was a wonder, larger and more powerful than any others.

And it had been so very long since Obi-wan had been in contact with another Force sensitive, so long since he had allowed himself to feel the Force without worry of discovery, even longer since he had felt the magnificent bond he had shared, that he can’t help but be swept along.

“Do you know how long I've waited for this?” Anakin muses aloud, and somehow in the euphoria Obi-Wan hadn't noticed Anakin had moved closer, kneeling beside him, forehead resting on his and both hands cradling Obi-Wan's cheeks.

“When I woke to find you gone and Pad—” Anakin cuts off with a strangled noise. “Knowing you hadn't killed me like those traitorous Jedi commanded you to, I thought that meant you understood. That you could see the Jedi for what they had become, that you had finally chosen me over their meddling vows, their manipulative attempts to always distance us.”

When Obi-Wan offers little but a stony glare, Anakin laughs, patting his cheek fondly.

“But then you wouldn't be Obi-Wan Kenobi would you? Stubborn and loyal, inherently good, rushing to your own death for a council that never deserved to have you.”

“I see your time with the Emperor has done wonders for your mind,” Obi-Wan quips. “Still delusional, I see.”

“Enough!” Anakin yells, moving his hands to Obi-Wan's shoulders and shaking him like a disobedient underling. “The Jedi are gone. The Council are gone. _I killed them all_. You are not theirs any more! And you will not die like them. I won't allow it.”

Trying to stop death had been Anakin's downfall. It seemed he still had not learnt from his mistake, even as grandiose as they were.

Anakin’s tirade hasn’t ended. “There is no more Jedi Order to run to, no Jedi Code to hide behind—”

Obi-Wan roughly pushes Anakin away and uses the Force to grab his lightsaber from it's abandoned location hidden somewhere among the sand.

It flies into Anakin's waiting hand instead.

Anakin stands as Obi-Wan wilts from the frustration.

“This weapon is your life,” Anakin ridicules, cleverly twirling the weapon around in his hands. “Does this mean your life is in my hands now?”

Words he had said to Anakin long ago. Those memories felt like another lifetime ago. He doesn't want to remember; that path led only to pain.

“More-so than it already was, I mean,” Anakin smirks, all pride and arrogance.

Obi-Wan sighs. This audacious arrogance was a familiar headache at least, one he knew how to deal with. “You're really not as clever as you think you are, former Padawan of mine.”

Anakin sneers. “Still looking down on me, even now. Always the self-righteous Jedi Master even while in the dirt.”

“I never looked down on you,” he replies honestly, earnestly. Voice thick with emotion, eyes stinging, old wounds resurfacing. He needed to backtrack to safety. “You're too tall for that.”

He hears Anakin let out a surprised huff of laughter.

“You haven't changed,” Anakin says lightly, a smile of relief lighting up his handsome face.

A startling resemblance to the boy Obi-Wan once knew, easy banter slotting into place around them even in the middle of a war, a playful remark thrown at Obi-Wan’s back as Anakin deflected a blaster bolt meant for him, unconditional trust flowing between them.

“You have,” Obi-Wan snaps.

The tranquil illusion is shattered. For a moment he feels Anakin’s Force signature jolt towards him, as if Anakin is trying to yank him back into the memory, before it fades. With an enraged frown Anakin goes back to observing the stolen lightsaber.

Obi-Wan uses the time to assess the damage of his wound. It's painful and inhibits his movements but it's nothing time and care wont fix. He's had worse as a General during the Clone Wars—far worse. Anakin wasn't trying to kill him. A troubling, unexpected outcome he had not prepared for when he had decided to stay on Tatooine and let the Empire find him. Sith killed Jedi. Anakin wasn't following the universes design, one that had been set in stone for millennia, tipping the balance of the Force.

“You won't be needing this for protection any more,” Anakin declares proudly after a moment of tense quiet. “You have me.”

_That's exactly why I need it_ , Obi-Wan doesn't say.

The hand that tightly holds his lightsaber is Anakin's mechanical one. Anakin's inhuman grasp becomes tighter, the metallic hilt beginning to crack under the pressure. He was going to destroy Obi-Wan's lightsaber.

Jedi don't—shouldn't—get attached. Not even to their trusted weapon. It was merely a tool. However, watching the lightsaber he had defeated so many evils with, beside dear trusted allies that were no longer with him, a remnant of an age long gone and the only remaining proof of his life at the Jedi Temple, made Obi-Wan react with a shocking intensity.

Using their newly reawakened bond Obi-Wan thrusts all of his remaining power and feelings upon Anakin to overwhelm him: years of grief and regrets flooding forward and crashing on one target.

It works.

Anakin lets out an angered cry and clutches at his head, falling to his knees. Obi-Wan Force grabs his lightsaber, now rolling on the ground, and puts space between himself and the Sith.

Anakin doesn't stay down long. He rises slowly, with all the arrogance of a Sith Lord that Obi-Wan had come to expect from their kind. Anakin swipes his sweaty, tangled fringe away from his forehead, a taunting brow rising as he takes in Obi-Wan's weak battle stance.

“You were always a better strategist than me, _Master_ , so I won't insult you by reminding you how,” Anakin casually waves a hand around, “futile all this is."

“How polite of you. A shame it took falling to the dark side to acquire such manners.”

His wit is rewarded with Anakin's irritation, one he can keenly feel now that their bond has been repaired, and he smiles with a false bravado as a plan begins to form.

Anakin could probably use the Force to stop him. Obi-Wan was weak enough at this point. But maybe—maybe he had the element of surprise on his side. Anakin was toying with him. Gloating at a victory not yet earned.

“I don't want to hurt you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says softly, a despairing difference to the annoyed glare he wears.

The burning gash up Obi-Wan's torso stopping him from keeping a steady grip on his lightsaber also said otherwise.

“Then don't,” Obi-Wan says simply, taking a step back.

“Don't _make_ me,” Anakin snaps, clearly irritated at the distance between them. Impatience bursts forth when Obi-Wan takes another step. “You test my patience, Obi-Wan.”

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan allows his love to pour into that name (just this once, a gaping vulnerability, here at the end). “When will you learn to take responsibility for your own actions?”

With a speed that surprises even himself, he turns the lightsaber on himself, intent on igniting it and piercing through his own heart in one clean manoeuvre. He could not get caught by Darth Vader. Whatever Anakin's intentions, however much he appeared to be the Anakin he once knew—buried somewhere deep within layers of a self-crafted malevolent cage—being bonded again would mean one moment of weakness and Luke and Leia's future would be irrevocably changed forever.

He would take the location of Padmé's children to his grave.

Except he can't move any more.

Anakin has a hand reached out, dark fury radiating from his being as he uses the Force to stop every inch of Obi-Wan. He feels the Force pry apart his fingers and his lightsaber drops uselessly to the ground once again.

“I won't let anything take you away from me again,” Anakin promises, threatens, hand still out stretched, shaking with sheer power or emotion. “Not even yourself.”

The hand falls but the power trapping Obi-Wan does not. The control Anakin has over the Force would be admirable, in better circumstances.

Anakin closes the distance between them in quick, wide strides and embraces him. Obi-Wan's head fits too perfectly in Anakin's shoulder. Even before his eyes close, all he can see is black, Anakin's black robes enveloping him, Anakin's black soul crushing him.

_Everything will be alright, now, you'll see._ Anakin sends through their bond, whether he is trying to convince Obi-Wan or himself isn’t certain. _I can make it so. I'm powerful enough to make it so._

_No one is that powerful,_ Obi-Wan thinks with regret.

_I am. I wont lose you too._

Anakin lost him the moment he knelt to Darth Sidious and raised a lightsaber on his own.

Obi-Wan keeps that thought carefully shielded out of fear that the man’s hold on him would tighten even more. There's already a hand in his hair, softly stroking back and forth. An arm around his waist, trapping him close. Possessive and desperate, like a child clutching their favourite toy, both of Anakin's arms encircle around him as if to stop him fleeing. A pointless gesture; he can't move. Only his heart is safe from such constriction, pounding heavily in his chest.

_Missed you, Master._

Their Force Bond is lit aflame with desperate thoughts of _want you, need you, missed you_.

Trying to remain calm, Obi-Wan attempts to reason with the obsessive, domineering Sith latching onto him. In the past Obi-Wan had managed to talk down a zealous Anakin countless times from making impulsive and rash decisions, being a necessary calming influence when he became lost in his passionate emotions.

“Let me go, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. “We can—”

“No,” Anakin growls. “That's all the Jedi ever told me to do—to let go. Of those I hold dear. Of my hate. My anger.”

A hand on his chin tilts his head back allowing him to see into Anakin's eyes, into the gentle insanity that resides there.

“Do you know what kept me going after I lost Padmé?” Anakin smiles. “My hate for you, Obi-Wan.”

The cruel confession is spoken gently, accompanied with a soft smile. Anakin radiates mixed emotions that Obi-Wan can't begin make sense of; a blazing contradiction of extremes.

Obi-Wan swallows past the lump in his throat. “Anakin—”

_Sleep._

A sensation of heavy fog suddenly clouds his senses. Obi-Wan fights the command knowing he can't let his guard down around Anakin (not now, not ever again). He struggles to keep his eyes open, to keep Anakin within his sights, who simply watches Obi-Wan's endeavour with a knowing, indulgent smile.

_Shh. Don't resist me, Master,_ Anakin's voice continues to coo at him. _You're safe here. Sleep._

The fog becomes heavier. As Obi-Wan slips into unconsciousness, he feels the imprisoning weight the Force Anakin had on him lift, but all he can do at that point is continue to fall into the arms that hold him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anyone wanna tag along on this self-indulgent journey of mine? Truth is I rarely write, due to an over tendency to question the quality of my work, but the world needs more sexy not-burnt-to-a-crisp Vader fics so I thought sod it, I'll throw mine out there.


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness comes to Obi-Wan in bursts: he is being carried, sand surrounds him, an Imperial shuttle waits in the distance, it’s silver gleam and refinery standing out among the primitive desert.

When he tries to move the arms around him tighten in retaliation. Obi-Wan knows if he looks up he’ll see two yellow eyes shining down at him, much like the planets own twin suns would.

The shuttle looms closer, like a Krayt Dragon perched, primed to encase him in it’s deadly jaws and fly away. Sleep claims him before he can finish that morbid yet fitting comparison.

When Obi-Wan wakes again, a little more aware, he is in what he presumes is a ship. His limbs feel heavy. His chest stings, though there is a dullness to the ache now, a cool sheet numbing the flames. Bacta patches, most likely, and he goes to check.

Hands wrap immediately around his wrists, halting his process.

He knows these hands; one metal, one flesh, wrapped in black leather. Obi-Wan had trusted those hands with his life, and countless others, once. They only brought about death now, even if they are currently painstakingly gentle, guiding his own hands back to his sides before releasing him.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, ignoring the black outline that sits near him like an imposing and vigilant shadow, and instead takes in the room. Sleek durasteel walls surround him, the harsh artificial light causing his eyes to shutter in discomfort, the bed underneath him just homely enough to pass regulations. He was in a medbay.

A medical droid is stationed nearby and a trooper guards the door. Even with Obi-Wan’s hazy vision he can make out the familiar shape of a DC-15S blaster they have holstered; hardly a worthy equivalent to a lightsaber but desperate times often called for desperate measures.

“Really, Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s amused voice floats from above him. “You plan on blasting your way out of here?”

“Sometimes one must be uncivilised to acquire results,” Obi-Wan murmurs, the words heavy on his uncooperative tongue.

Anakin laughs deeply, the sound making Obi-Wan’s heart pitter-patter. “I think I would like to see that.”

Sharp pain pricks in the inside of his elbow. The medical droid retracts the needle methodically.

A hand threads into his hair before moving onto his face. Cold to the touch. “But perhaps another time,” Anakin whispers, too closely in his ear, as sleep retakes him.

The next time Obi-Wan’s eyes open, he’s elsewhere.

The bed he rests on takes centre point, larger and comfier than the last. There’s a table and chair for work related uses in one corner, datachips and droid parts left haphazardly lying around, and a small door to the side that most likely led to a ‘fresher. The ship must be of an impressive size to actually have the room to spare for such extensive, personal quarters.

And he has a sinking feeling who these quarters belonged to.

Obi-Wan raises a hand to his chest again, pulling at his slightly charred outer-tunic to reveal an unblemished expanse of skin, erasing evidence that his fight with Anakin ever occurred.

Being alive was surprising enough, let alone being treated as a guest instead of the caught intergalactic fugitive he was. Living through the front-lines of a war meant Obi-Wan knew how to deal with cold cells, harsh interrogations and the pain torture would bring. Not this...baffling situation he found himself in.

“The data you required, sir.” Obi-wan hears from outside the room. “The Executor is also ready to begin travel to Coruscant at anytime.”

“Await my command,” he hears Anakin, no, _Vader_ , respond.

Obi-Wan’s mind reels from the information he’s overheard as he slides himself out the bed.

Coruscant. Once a proud symbol of the Republic and the Jedi Order, now the birthplace of the Galactic Empire. Obi-Wan's escape would be near impossible in that stronghold.

Footsteps echo, a lock clicking, then the woosh of a door as it slides open and Anakin strides in, holding a datapad.

“Don't beat yourself up, Obi-Wan,” Anakin advises, after giving him a quick, pitying glance. “I wouldn't have allowed you a chance to escape me no matter the location.”

Obi-Wan goes to respond with a scathing insult before realising the worrying implications Anakin’s statement brings. Anakin was hearing his thoughts, or sensing his emotions to a significant degree that he could read Obi-Wan's intentions. Anakin had done it earlier too, while he was vulnerable and healing, his side of the bond open and broadcasting shamelessly.

Hastily he begins to build his mental walls back up.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._ Obi-Wan falls back on the mantra of the Jedi Code as he had most his life, the words bringing comfort even in the bleakest of times.

“Don't hide from me either,” Anakin says sharply when he senses the new bridge between them, hands snapping toward Obi-Wan like he could tear them all down again with his bare fists.

“Forgive me if I don’t wish to bare my soul to a mass murderer.”

“You’ll find nothing but murderers here. Including you.” Anakin pauses in thought, a smug smirk emerging. “Though yes, I suppose my body count is…. _significantly_ higher.”

“Any life I took was in self-defence, in the name of keeping the peace,” Obi-Wan argues.

Anakin shrugs. “The intentions matter little when the result is the same: a corpse is a corpse.”

“A narrow minded view, thought I shouldn’t be surprised, that was always the Sith’s speciality.”

The datapad creaks in Anakin’s tight grasp. “Enough, Obi-Wan. I did not bring you here to talk _morals_.”

Obi-Wan raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Naturally, since you would lose.” Anakin had brought up a good point though, the question that had been lingering at the back of his mind since he woke. “Why am I here?” he questions. “You can’t possibly think I’ll have or willingly give any information of the remaining Jedi.”

_Why haven’t you killed me,_ he doesn’t ask, too afraid the answer would be similar to his own inability to end Anakin’s life.

Anakin sighs, throwing the datapad recklessly onto the bed. “I care little for the pathetic remains of the Jedi. Let them scurry and hide. Though Sidious feels differently, his bloodlust will likely stay unquenched until Yoda has been destroyed.”

Hearing his wise mentor and trusted friend’s name, spoken with animosity, catches Obi-Wan unaware. He had not seen or heard from the Grand-Master since they had both left for their destined locations in escape pods from Bail Organa’s cruiser, the Tantive IV, after Order 66 had tragically dismantled their lives.

They had shared their destinations to each other before parting ways but never dared reach out, physically or with the Force, in fear of bringing an army upon them.

Dread and disgrace builds in his gut. Obi-Wan was unintentionally putting so many lives at stake by being at the heart of the enemy because he had been too weak to stop Anakin.

Anakin pinpoints the feeling of failure clouding Obi-Wan, predatory exhilaration filling his eyes. “You know where that decrepit old troll is, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan says nothing.

Anakin’s hums thoughtfully. “Not that it matters. I won’t let Sidious have you.”

Obi-Wan doubts there isn’t much Sidious can’t have from his self-made, bloodstained throne, but keeps his silence.

Anakin comes closer in one smooth step, a feline grace to his movement. “I imagine that mind of yours holds many enticing secrets the Empire could put to great use.”

A shudder threatens to run down his spine. Obi-Wan resists the urge by clenching his teeth. Anakin doesn’t know just how close he was to the truth, how close he _had_ been to one secret back on Tatooine.

“You can try to break me but I will never betray my allegiances,” Obi-Wan proclaims with utmost certainty.

If Anakin tried to pry those secrets from his head, the ones he hid behind a sealed vault, Obi-Wan would put a stop to it—anyway he had to.

Anakin’s eyes darken in response to Obi-Wan’s grim, resolute demeanour. An arm lashes out, too quick for Obi-Wan to intercept, and he can only flinch when deft fingers encircle his throat and pull him closer.

The contact is feather light, a contradiction to the strength the prosthetic ligaments were capable of. Anakin’s grip does not tighten or squeeze but rests threateningly against his skin like a deadly, stinging necklace. A warning.

“Keep your secrets, Obi-Wan,” Anakin graciously grants. “As long as you always remember that your strongest allegiance is to me.” A rueful smile purges the anger Anakin was manifesting. “It always has been, right Master?”

Obi-Wan swallows, apprehension and yearning threatening to choke him instead of the restrictive hold. His pulse beats an erratic rhythm under Anakin’s thumb. He tilts his head back, baring more of his neck, the leather glove caressing his skin. It would be submissive if not for the defiance raging throughout Obi-Wan’s body. Their eyes clash together, much like their lightsabers had, stormy blue opposing a golden blaze.

Obi-Wan covers the hand around his neck with his own and pushes it away. Anakin does not stop him. 

“I never stopped caring for the man you were,” Obi-Wan admits, sincere. The words feel foreign on his tongue, taboo in nature. “The selfless Jedi that cared for others, the brother and friend I fought beside and would have died for. My loyalty and love was to him.”

Anakin’s intense stare peers into him, imploring. “I’m still that man. You and the Council just turned a blind eye when I was more.” Anakin smirks cynically. “Naturally they still judged me for it, though.”

It was a true statement, one Obi-Wan could not deny. The Jedi had been pushed to extremities in the war, laid thin in number across the planets. The concrete rules they lived by crumbling as death and anguish rose, the Dark side threatening to seduce even the strongest Jedi.

None quite like Anakin. Whose protective rage and profound devotion to those he loved howled in the Force, strengthened his resolve, daring him to push the limits and make questionable judgements.

It drew the disapproving eyes of Master Jedi each time. The Council had always been distrustful of Anakin.

That had likely been the first stepping stone to Anakin’s fall.

“The problem now is that you can’t look away any more, though you still try,” Anakin sneers. “When you look at me you see your own failings and the Jedi Order’s shortcomings—as you should—but still not _me_.”

“I may have failed as your Master but one thing I taught you was that it takes strength to resist the Dark side,” Obi-Wan says. “I saw that strength in you, so perhaps you are right in that I never saw the man you truly were: a weak one.”

The room becomes considerably colder, a dark chill seeping into Obi-Wan’s bones. In-front of him, Anakin visibly struggles to reign in his temper, his lightsaber hanging on his belt, reminding Obi-Wan of his own lack of weapon. How far could he push Anakin before he surrendered to his primal impulses? After all, Anakin had never been known for his control, set to explode like a proton bomb at anytime.

Anakin’s jaw clenches. “Seeking power is not weak. Having power is not weak.”

All of a sudden Obi-Wan feels tired, an old exhaustion reacquainting itself within. The Sith was beyond reasoning with. Obi-Wan knew that. Had known that even back on Mustafar, when he first set eyes upon what had happened to his closest friend, lost in the dark, captivated by a vile power that blinded him of his values.

Not even his pregnant wife and her pleads could pierce through the miasma.

Yet Obi-Wan was still trying to reach him, still too attached to a past that had long melted away and joined the ash of that volcanic planet, as futile to grasp onto as it’s black soil.

Anakin, realising the fight has left him, abruptly heads to the door.

“Come, Obi-Wan,” Anakin orders, before announcing ominously: “I’m going to give you a choice.”

* * *

Anakin brings him to the ship’s main control room.

A wide viewport spans the entirety of it, displaying the black expanse of space. The few Imperial’s working there send Obi-Wan curious, hostile glances before quickly averting their eyes back to their terminals to avoid Vader’s wrath.

“Our scanners discovered a group of Rebels located on the nearby planet, Yavin,” Anakin announces. “A minor, insignificant sum hiding away, but annoying in their determination nonetheless.”

Obi-Wan frowns at the news. He had heard of small Rebel factions beginning to sprout up among the galaxy, so called fighters for the lost Republic, though nothing ever came of it, being severely outmatched in terms of firepower and units.

_They might stand a chance if a Jedi stands by their side. If you did,_ a voice whispers in his mind.

He pushes the idea aside. The Force had guided him into protecting two special children, whose dazzling presence spoke of a brighter, freer future for all and, as always, he would trust in the Living Force.

“We might not have found them if it hadn’t been for your location bringing us near the planet’s orbit,” Anakin continues. “You have my gratitude, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan does not rise to the bait. “Is there a point to telling me this that you wish to share or am I simply here to suffer through your gloating?”

In the background he hears a sharp inhale, one of their spectators from the ship crew in shock that he was being snippy with Darth Vader and living to tell the tale, no doubt.

A smirk graces the corner of Anakin’s lips. “Not a point, a choice: to save their lives. Talk them down from their deluded plans. They are not a threat to me, just nuisance I’d like removed.”

“Why would they listen to me?”

Anakin rolls his eyes. “You’re somewhat of a hero to them. The legendary Master Kenobi, slayer of both a Sith’s apprentice and General of the Separatists, survivor of the Great Jedi Purge.” Anakin gestures at him carelessly, then frowns darkly. “And so forth. It’s disgusting how they latch onto you when they don’t even know you, claiming your accomplishments as theirs.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Anakin is offended on his behalf. How laughable.

“Why are you offering this chance at all?” Obi-Wan inquires. “From what I hear the Empire is rarely forgiving to those who transgress against them.”

“I’m in a good mood, my _missing_ Master has been returned to me, so I’ve decided to be merciful.”

Hundreds of lives hang in the balance and Anakin is lounging (for there is no other word to describe the way he openly leans back, head tilted in lazy contemplation) against one of the consoles. There’s calculation swirling in those golden orbs though, a hidden motive at play as Anakin watches him.

Obi-Wan thinks it over. This could be a trap—for him, or the Rebels, he’s not sure. However that wouldn’t make any sense; Anakin had little to gain from such deception. Not when he could easily hunt down these people, eradicate them and be done with it.

The choice is an easy one. Saving lives had always been a priority to the Jedi. To him.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan says.

Anakin turns and flicks several buttons. A Twi'lek female pops into view on the subspace transceiver.

“Who is this?” the woman demands. “We did not authorise an open connection.”

“Hello there,” he begins, stepping closer to the distorted picture. “My name is Obi—”

“I—I know who you are, sir,” the astonished woman on the other end of the transmission interrupts. “We...thought you might be dead. Wait...why are you broadcasting from an Empire Flagship?”

Obi-Wan sighs. Why indeed. “Your location has been compromised. I’m afraid the Empire knows exactly where you are.”

An expression of pure fear dawns on her face. Panicked whispers can be heard through the link. When she looks back at him, with a steely resolve, Obi-Wan can see the plans of retaliation that flitter through her eyes as if they were his own, even through the impersonal distance of a hologram.

He also sees those plans meet a swift, mournful death when Vader moves from his out of sight position to stand directly behind Obi-Wan, a clear unmistakable figure, threatening even with his silence.

“In this conflict you are outmatched,” Obi-Wan says, not unkindly. “The Empire has offered to overlook your...misadventures if you disband and relocate. Live to fight another day,” Obi-Wan urges. Then bites his upper-lip. He might have pushed too far with that, but a quick glance back at Anakin shows that he’s unfazed, hungry eyes resting solely on Obi-Wan. “Do not throw your lives away in a fight you cannot win.”

_There will be a time to fight but now is not it,_ he wants, but cannot, say.

A long moment passes before the Rebel Commander speaks again.

“We will do as you say and...reconsider our loyalties to the Empire.”

A brazen lie, but lucky for them, Vader is seemingly distracted, his attention captured fully by Obi-Wan. The Twi’lek clearly wants to say more to him but is wise enough to realise the precarious situation Obi-Wan is in and nods stiffly in farewell.

Obi-Wan returns the gesture and the connection dies. He prays they are smart and play along while the Empire monitors them.

“Good, Obi-Wan,” Anakin purrs, approval oozing in his voice.

Obi-Wan shivers, unreasonably, as his body is warm from the way Anakin’s satisfaction transfers through the bond and he feels like he has, against all odds, managed to sedate a dangerous, ravenous nexu.

Before he can turn to face Anakin, the Sith stealthily closes the distance, bringing them chest-to-back, and he rests his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan freezes up in shock.

Anakin had hugged him back on Tatooine, as well, intoxicated on their reawakened bond and adrenaline. This time Obi-Wan’s body is free to move, though he feels no more in control than he did then, frozen for entirely different reasons.

Anakin had always given too freely with his touches.

Sometimes it had been an arm wrapped around Obi-Wan shoulders as Anakin came back from his latest mission, tired and wounded but relief and joy evident on his face from finding Obi-Wan waiting for him at the Jedi Temple’s entrance.

Sometimes a lingering hand on his lower back as Anakin led him through a Republic encampment, insistent they should share a tent, reasoning it would be safer.

Other times, Anakin would run a hand through Obi-Wan’s dishevelled fringe, after a long and difficult battle, laughing at the sight. Delighted that his usually orderly and well put together Master could also be unkempt.

Rarer times, Anakin would hold onto him tightly as Obi-Wan bled out on in an enemy base. After, he would stubbornly remain at Obi-Wan’s side, protective touches drawn to where the injury was, as if he could heal away Obi-Wan’s scars with sheer determination.

It was something the Order had looked down upon, going as far as to reprimand Obi-Wan for allowing it.

_Anakin controls himself different to us,_ he had reasoned with the Council. _Where we ground ourselves via meditation and teachings, Anakin keeps himself centred physically. It’s easier for him to reach out with a hand than the Force._

_Unorthodox methods, this is._ Grand-Master Yoda spoke. _Dangerous, it could be. Lead you both down a dark path, I fear._

Master Windu nodded. _I don’t like how attached he still is to you, Kenobi._ _Such attachment should have ended the day he ended his_ _Padawan_ _training under you._

_Come now, Masters. There is little harm in it,_ Obi-Wan had said.

A firm chest radiates heat at his back. Each breath Anakin takes Obi-Wan feels as his own. The tunic he wears does little to distance them, little to stop the warm breath he feels travelling down his neck, and Obi-Wan wishes he had his cloak to wear like armour, to shield against the intimacy of the broader, familiar body threatening to consume him whole.

In hindsight, there had been a great deal of harm in it.

“I knew the ‘Negotiator’ would have no trouble talking them down,” Anakin says, radiating contentment. His untamed curls tickles Obi-Wan’s chin. “You made it look as easy as convincing a clanker.”

Obi-Wan frowns at the praise. “Is that what this was? A test?”

“Perhaps I was worried my old Master had gone senile or crazy, secluded in the deserted wastes, and needed reassurance of his sound mind,” Anakin teases.

“Perhaps you wanted to confirm if I had been working with these Rebels during my disappearance.”

As the words leave his lips he knows it to be true. Obi-Wan’s decision to go into exile, to detach himself from all other lifeforms, had been a wise one. Anakin would not have been so merciful if this rebellion had played a part in keeping Obi-Wan from him.

Obi-Wan feels Anakin shrug, guiltless at being caught out. “Partly. I also wanted to squash their pathetic hopes by showing them you were back where you belong—by my side again.”

Obi-Wan goes to correct him—he certainly had never been an ally of a Sith ruled Empire—before realising Anakin was referring to before.

Before the dark times.

They were a formidable team during the Clone Wars, Kenobi and Skywalker, never far apart. Many of the other Jedi had joked about their ever growing popularity with the public as their successful missions quota rose and became legend. Allies and enemies alike knew that where one of them was, the other would surely be following close behind.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to get lost in those happier memories. To lean back into that doting embrace and forget the past four years. To tune into the hymn the Force was singing around them, a mellow resonance that a Sith and Jedi should not be capable of conducting.

“It felt wrong not to have you with me. I’ve missed you,” Anakin sighs into him, a broken, forbidden whisper. Lips brush against the side of his neck. “Admit it, you missed me too.”

_That’_ _s_ _quite enough of that,_ Obi-Wan lectures himself with a mental slap.

Obi-Wan finally moves, tearing free and turning to face Anakin, hoping the colour gathered in his cheeks isn’t visible in the ships low light. Words brim to the surface but none of them feel adequate enough to explain the hollow feeling in his chest, the ache in his heart.

“Lord Vader.” An Imperial officer approaches them. “We have received a transmission from the Emperor. He wishes to speak with you.”

Anakin barely glances at the man. “Tell him I’m busy. Set course for Coruscant.”

Obi-Wan manages to hide his shock better than the officer, whose jaw hangs open for an impressive amount of time. He can feel the man wants to say something, likely among the lines of _b-but my_ _L_ _ord, it’s the Empero_ _r?_

The atmosphere darkens quickly. Even without being attuned to the Force a person could sense the blanket of malice that descends upon the control room. The earlier serenity within Anakin must have been a dream, for now all Obi-Wan can sense in the man is a deep rooted, corruptive poison that unnerves even his battle-hardened senses.

Anakin is facing the viewport, arms crossed, and he glances at the officer from the corner of hateful eyes.

The Imperial smartly offers a mumbled affirmative and hastily leaves.

The ordeal makes Obi-Wan ponder. The last he had known of them, Chancellor Palpatine had cleverly slithered his way into Anakin’s head, establishing himself as a trusted mentor and friend. The dynamic clearly had changed after Palpatine’s shocking reveal. No love lost among Sith, with their inability to share power and backstabbing, murderous ways.

“I can feel you thinking,” Anakin cuts into his thoughts. “Even with your precious shields in place, I can feel you.”

His tone holds a hint of wonder, as if he cannot believe Obi-Wan is here at all; the feeling is mutual. Even though Obi-Wan doesn’t let his Force presence wander, confines it to himself, Anakin is always surrounding him with his own since they were re-bonded. Half in an attempt to smother and possess, another half to protect and nurture. It was...

Obi-Wan did not know what _it_ was because he no longer knew what _they_ were.

“I simply find it funny your loyalties seem to be weak no matter the master, Vader,” Obi-Wan tells him, more spitefully than he intended, the inconsolable depths of Anakin’s betrayal drawing out concealed emotion. “Points for continuity.”

Anakin scowls at him, a mass of irritation and confusion. Obi-Wan is hard to read, he knows, with his flippant quips and a courteous demeanour, a lifeline that kept enemies on their toes.

And his friends—his _attachments_ —at a polite distance.

Of course, Anakin is ever the exception, his dominant Force signature beginning to poke and prod at Obi-Wan’s, eager to find a way in. Obi-Wan stands firm. If he really wanted to, Anakin could force past his blockade. It would be taxing on them both, but with their bond, entirely possible. Anakin using the dark side of the Force, the sheer power he had over it, meant it might be easier than expected in it’s savagery.

Thankfully, Anakin ceases his attempts, but Obi-Wan knows with a chilling certainty he wont wait forever.

“Sidious has nothing left to teach me,” Anakin scoffs. “He promised he would find you and failed.” Anakin turns his gaze to the windows and admits, quietly, “He promised me a lot of things.”

Darth Vader cuts a lonely figure among the glass covered vacuum of space.

The rare vulnerability on display brings Obi-Wan’s attention to things he had not noticed before: the ghostly pale of Anakin’s skin that clashes against his dark attire, the smoky outline that shadowed his eyes, nearly as prominent as his scar.

_I don’t sleep well any more_ , he confided in Obi-Wan a long time ago.

It seemed even on the side of the Dark, one could not escape the plague of nightmares.

A part of Obi-Wan, the one he hides behind careful control and meditation, the wounded, betrayed part, roars in vindication.

_Good,_ it screamed. _He deserves to suffer for_ _the atrocities he’s_ _committed._

The other part of him, the sentimental, caring part, just feels immense sadness at what has become of the tender boy who had wanted, more than anything, to be a Jedi.

Absurdly he wants to reach out to Anakin, to run a hand along those shoulders, to smooth those tense lines with a kind touch, but that was past them now—it had to be.

The moment of weakness passes. Anakin transforms back into the assertive, triumphant Sith, sending him an excited, promise-filled glance.

“Soon, Obi-Wan, you’ll finally be back home.”

Obi-Wan returns his eyes to the large viewport. The stars blur, swirling into a bright, blinding white as they enter hyperspace.

It didn’t feel like coming home; it felt like being delivered to his execution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A serving of ship shenanigans, angst and tension. The responses to the first chapter was a happy surprise and it motivated me greatly to keep writing more—thank you!!


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